Quick Indian Cooking

Maternity leave has ended.

The last jobless Friday night involved a leggy single brunette. Also top friend and white wine fiend.

First stop, the global launch of Smirnoff’s new Green Apple and Lime flavours. My favourite choice of tipple. Followed closely by Tanqueray and tonic. And champagne. (There must be some others)

I expected free cocktails and vodka bottles. I got a row of melting ice sculptures. The top had fallen off St Paul’s Cathedral. The London Eye had liquefied beyond recognition. Drinks were an hour later in a different venue.

An hour? That’s two eternities for a new mum on a night out!

Cocktail bar, French bistro and Cinema cafe later I was ready to call it a night. Return to my previous life as a corporate superbitch. Whip the world into shape with some quick Indian cooking.

No better way to get going than an easy, simple dal. It takes 20 minutes. Doesn’t disappoint. Enjoy.
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It’s time for an update on the naan in the oven.

Well, I am now the size of a two-bedroom bungalow. My social life has been overtaken by ante-natal events with other soon-to-be parents, an obstetrician who can never remember my name and a pony-tail sporting pregnancy yoga instructor.

Mercifully, work and friends are saving me from a fate of endless thoughts about Disney and powder pink non-essential baby clutter. I keep getting asked if I’m tired. No. I am too busy to be tired.

In fact I am on a one woman crusade to prove that being pregnant does not relegate you to a temporary life of sack wearing, swollen ankles and sulking under a blanket. I am carrying on as normal as possible. With a few adjustments.

Like the gig I went to yesterday. I called the venue manager and managed to get a bar stool reserved by the stage. Arrived early so I could take my spot sensibly. And left just before the crowds dispersed to avoid getting walked on.

A glass of something cold and alcoholic would have been nice. But even I know you can’t have everything!

To comfort myself, I whizzed up Doodh Badam. Literally meaning nutty milk, this warm, frothy drink is like a giant hug when you need it the most. It’ll definitely keep me going until d-day.
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This was the longest birthday celebration ever. On the eve of the big day, my client took a colleague and me to a night out at Cirque du Soleil.

It was to celebrate the end of a major project – the development of a new luxury report followed by its global media launch. We had collectively spent months of blood, sweat and tears. Now it was time to let our hair down. In style.

We grabbed a glass of champagne and sandwich each and made our way to the red carpet box. As the acrobatics started, so did the assault on our senses.  With every air borne somersault, we clutched the edge of our seats. It was fresh, bold and full of punch.

Not unlike a Chaat, I thought to myself as we left the venue mesmerised by the production. [Do I never stop thinking about food??] These spicy and tangy snacks are the mainstay of street food vendors and tea parties back home. The word literally means “to lick” or relish. It’s impossible not to, with the explosion of flavours on offer.

I went out and bought Papdi (pronounce paap-ri), the flat flour biscuits, that are layered with boiled potatoes, yogurt to make Papdi Chaat. Spicy tamarind sauce, written about here by my friend Rosie, and coriander chutney give the dish a kick. Along with a sprinkling of pungent spices and topping of crushed crispy fried noodles or Sev.

Unlike the modern circus, this required no special skill. Just a specialist shopping trip.
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Last week had several highlights.

I cleverly used the 15-minute relaxation session at yoga to have a power snooze. Then changed into a pale gold top and dashed to the first Christmas party of the season. Sailing proudly past the other 10 awestruck dumbfounded pregnant women.

Then came the office Christmas party. Where I tried to blend into a room full of gorgeous, small-waisted colleagues. Three layers of makeup and an off-the-shoulder maternity party frock later my boss declared I had “just” maintained the glamour stakes.

But the biggest highlight of it all was meeting at least four different couples who wanted to cook a curry at Christmas. Not in place of the big bronze bird with all the trimmings.  But for pre-and post-dinners with friends and family.

I could barely conceal my excitement as I tried to rack my brains for simple curry recipes that wouldn’t send them into a blind ingredient-sourcing panic in the run up to the big event. I needed a chicken, lamb and vegetarian option. Crowd pleasing, one-pot meals that can be cooked easily and in large quantities to feed hungry families.

My next few posts are dedicated to this theme. The first recipe is for Dal Gosht, spiced lamb cooked with lentils. An Indian Cassoulet of sorts. I last made this in a large stock pot, divided it in half and froze it. Later serving it to two small groups of dinner party guests.

Both were well impressed. It’s tasty without being mouth-numbingly hot and a real winter warmer. From one big bronze bird to another – this is my spice-filled contribution to your Christmas meal.
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